The Promises We Keep
by Winter Muse
Summary: There was a time Eames believed in love. Her name was Helena Conley, a devastatingly brilliant MI6 agent; but then she went and broke his heart. Fast forward seven years and Eames believes he has finally moved on. But when Helena comes back seeking his aid he cannot help but fall for her all over again. Will it all end in heartbreak or can they forge something new?


**As a disclaimer I obviously do not own Inception.**

**Also anything in italics is either an event that happened in the past. I apologize for the severe lack of Eames in this chapter but my OC Helena and her conflict needed to be established first. He will appear soon though, along with the rest of the Inception gang. **

_The silver haired man glared at her from the doorway as Helena held her newborn for what she was sure was the first and last time. She couldn't help but wipe at her tears as she kissed his already full head of black hair. "Why are you doing this to me, Mikhail? Torturing me with my son when I know you're going to kill me?" Helena demanded in her normal British accent, the need to pretend to be a Russian woman gone._

"_I am only doing what you did to me." he hissed in a thick Russian accent while stalking over to her, "I truly loved you, my dorogaya*_. _I was willing to give you the world, and you lied to me. You tortured me with false love when you knew I would die in prison once you handed me over to your friends in MI6." Helena felt her chin being jerked up and she was forced to stare into the steely blue eyes that used to reduce her to a puddle of jelly. "Be grateful that I'm allowing you to name __**my**__ son, besserdechny suka**."_

_Helena blinked in surprise. He was actually going to do that? Was it possible to play on this last smidgen of mercy? She quickly recovered from her shock by narrowing her eyes and practically snarled,"Why are you giving me the privilege? And what are you going to tell him when he grows older and asks about his mother? That you butchered her hours after his birth?"_

"_You may be a liar and a spy, but there is no hiding the love of a mother. I am not cruel enough to take that away from you." Mikhail responded coldly, "And I will tell him his mother was a good English woman who died in childbirth." _

_At that moment Helena knew that her desperate grasp at mercy was only that, desperate. This was Mikhail Petrovich Kozlov, a brutal and heartless Russian mobster. She had seen him smash the hand of one of his men with a pistol because of an insulting remark. There was a stack of papers an inch thick of all the men he was responsible for killing. Those did not even touch the countless deaths caused by the guns and explosives he sold to terrorist groups. There was no denying the fact that he was going to kill her._

_She sighed, closing her eyes to try and block the tears threatening to spill over. "Saul Feodor Conley- I mean Kozlov." Helena said, enough heartache to move anyone but the man before her._

"_A strong name," Mikhail replied with a nod. "Why Saul instead of Paul though?" _

_The question brought a small smile to her lips before she nuzzled Saul's baby soft cheek. "It is a reminder that something good can be molded from the bad," Helena answered. The older man sneered at her and raised a hand as if to strike her but put it down when he saw the look of fierce determination Helena gave him. _

"_A nurse will come in for Saul," Mikhail finally seethed, "She will take a picture so he may have something from the woman who gave him life. Afterwards one of my men will give you enough euthanasia to kill an elephant. I will send your heart to your handler before I shoot him in the head and personally dump the rest of you in the river Thames. I'm sure MI6 will appreciate not having to go far to pick up their dead colleague." _

_With that last statement he turned on his heel and left the room. Helena stared at the empty space he left behind, his threat -no guarantee- ringing in her ears. Long ago she had believed that her death would be quiet, and way in the future. Obviously, this was not the case. However, not one to waste time, Helena spent her last thirty minutes with Saul by whispering the sweet promises of a mother she knew she could not keep; each one sealed with a kiss on his cheek, nose, or forehead. "I love you to the moon and back." Kiss."When you're a teenager I'll do my best not to humiliate you." Kiss."I will put a bandage on every little ouchie, even the non existent ones." Kiss."I'll make sure you never leave the house reeking of cheap cologne." Kiss. "I will scare all the monsters under your bed away." Kiss."When you wake up at three in the morning I'll sing you to sleep every time." Kiss."They will __**never**__ take you away from me." Kiss._

_All too soon an older, stocky nurse came in and silently took a picture of the thirty-two year old mother and sleeping baby boy. In most cases it would have been a beautiful photograph. It was taken while Helena was kissing the top of Saul's head. Though her eyes were closed there was no doubt of the unconditional love radiating from her. However, in this case it was only cruelly ironic. Nevertheless, it would be a perfect photo to give to a child who wanted to have an image of a mother he would never know. _

_When the older woman practically forced the infant from her arms Helena's resolve finally shattered. She wailed in a way that could make the most hardened man shudder. The sedatives the doctors gave her to ease her birth made her unsteady as she flew out of the bed to follow the nurse who was stealing her son. But after only five steps Helena collapsed onto the floor. She brought her knees to her chest before succumbing to a series of heart wrenching sobs that coursed through her whole body. The nurse only stopping long enough to give her a look of pity before walking out the door._

_For what felt like hours but was only seconds Helena laid there in a ball of agony. When suddenly a set of strong arms lifted her from the floor as if she was a bride and not a mother who just had her child ripped away from her. "Der, der love," said the mystery man in a comforting Irish accent, "Dis will all be over soon. Just rest yer pretty head." At that moment Helena was too lost in a sense of hopelessness to realize that a Russian man should not have an Irish accent. All she could do was close her eyes and let out one last sob as he injected a syringe filled with bright pink liquid into her arm._

Bright florescent lights burned Helena's eyes as she came to. The too dry air had a thick antiseptic smell and was much too chilly for her liking. If this is the afterlife it sure seems like a hospital she thought to herself. As her sight came back into focus Helena gasped sharply when she saw the head of her team looming over her.

The older woman took her hand and gave her a small smile, "Welcome back to the world of the living Agent Conley."

(*) Russian: darling

(**) Russian: heartless bitch


End file.
